


Collateral

by Fudgyokra



Series: Kinktober 2019 [12]
Category: Teen Titans (Comics)
Genre: Against a Wall, Anal Sex, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Bargaining, Degradation, Dirty Talk, Dubious Consent, Gun Kink, M/M, Objectification, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Under-negotiated Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2021-01-07 06:07:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21210890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fudgyokra/pseuds/Fudgyokra
Summary: In retrospect, he probably should have been clearer about the payment plan.





	Collateral

**Author's Note:**

> Oops! I’m a day late with this one. Once again, it was written and edited quickly, so please excuse any mistakes.
> 
> Day 27: Exhibitionism/Voyeurism | Degradation* | Gun Play* | Against a wall*

Roy wouldn’t have guessed that being held against a wall so long would be quite as painful as it was. On one hand, the fact that Slade could bodily lift him like he weighed nothing was fun to discover, but, on the other, the friction of drywall against his back at every stab of Slade’s cock inside him was starting to drive him nuts.

In retrospect, he probably should have been clearer about the payment plan. He heard his own voice echoing in his head, ghosts of past promises coming back to haunt him. _Whatever it takes for you to call off the hit, I’ll give it to you. _Yeah, he thought, really smooth bartering. Because Oliver had been dumb enough to get himself targeted by Deathstroke, Roy had to go and put his ass on the line. Literally.

“You know,” Slade said, fingers tightening around the meat of Roy’s thighs, “I think it would be nice to give your old man a call. Really drive home the point of his rescue.”

Roy held himself back from rolling his eyes, if only because they were too busy crossing at the sudden barrage of thrusts with which Slade lavished him. All at just the right angle, the full length of him drawing out and shoving back in each time. Too much. _Way_ too much.

Annoyingly, Roy groaned, feeling his body clench of its own accord as it sped ahead to enjoyment faster than his brain could remind him not to take too much pleasure in it. It was supposed to be nothing more than a means to an end. But, then: “Shit,how the fuck are you still going like tha-a-at?” His whole face burned at the stammer in his voice, the pathetic whine he found unbecoming of a hero like himself forcing its way out as if determined to make sure Slade knew how good it felt.

“Face it, kid.” He let Roy tighten his legs where they were wrapped around Slade’s midsection before lifting his hands to his hips instead. The better to drag him down, using gravity as a tool to make the already dizzying strikes worse. “You think you’re the first brat with daddy issues to come crawling to me? I know exactly what your type enjoys.”

Roy opened his mouth to say any number of things. _Yeah, right. Who else? I do not have daddy issues! _What came out in the place of a logical retort was a loud, unrestrained wail when Slade shoved in all the way and ground against Roy’s ass, forcing him to take the pressure against spots too sensitive for the assault. Then, afterward, an emphatic, “_Christ._ I shoulda just let him get himself killed!”

Slade had the nerve to laugh. “Don’t act like you signed away a tight ass like this for anyone else’s sake. You’re here for the fun of it. Think there wasn’t any other payment you could have offered me?”

Rough hands dipped into the spaces between Slade’s waist and Roy’s thighs, a single jerk of motion slamming them back against the wall and spreading him open, leaving him even more vulnerable to the harsh penetration. His first curse was gruff, his second closer to begging than he necessarily would have liked.

Slade had a point. Surely, Roy could have conspired with someone to come up with the right amount of cash. Dick, or even Dinah would have helped. A part of Roy wanted this more than he’d otherwise allow himself to say. He would keep that to himself, if he could help it, but Slade seemed hell-bent on dragging it out of him bit by bit, along with his sanity.

“Go ahead, say it,” he goaded. “It’ll just be between you and me.”

“In your dreams,” Roy all but gasped. It wasn’t well-received, going by the sudden clicking sound of a safety being turned off; the cold press of metal against his throat. Like this, he was supporting half of his own weight, frantically wrapping the unsupported leg tighter around Slade’s midsection and palming pathetically at the wall. “Hey! This is a payment, not a bounty hunt!”

“It’s whatever you make it.” Slade’s grin was shark-like. “Right now, you’re making it a lot harder for yourself.”

The barrel of the gun jammed uncomfortably against the soft skin beneath his jaw, tilting his head upward a fraction. Despite the panic pulsing instinctively through him and the faint itch in his throat from the metal lodged against his trachea, his body betrayed him with a shiver. “Fine,” he spat, looking down the bridge of his nose at the gun, then back up to Slade’s face with a scowl, “I wanted this.”

“You can do better.”

The shame burned on Roy’s face like he were out in the sun. “I wanted you to fuck me.”

“That’s right.” Almost fondly, Slade trailed the gun down Roy’s cheek. The cool metal sent more tingles down his spine, making his breath quicken. “You bartered for your daddy’s life with your own body. How does it feel?”

A demand for the man to shut up rested on the tip of Roy’s tongue, but something choked it back, be it the gun still dangerously close to his face, or something less tangible. Instead, he muttered an entirely different response under his breath.

“Louder, boy.” The gun jammed harshly, abruptly against his temple.

With a simmering hiss of words, he repeated, “It feels good.”

Slade hummed. “You know what that makes you, don’t you?”

Roy had heard it before. His skin prickled all over, and this time he didn’t have to be asked before he obediently answered, “It makes me a whore.” Another hum, this time a long, drawn-out _mm-hmm_ that seemed to see through each and every one of Roy’s guards. Something ugly burned in his chest, but it felt freeing, like confessing something horrific to a stranger. He supposed it wasn’t far off.

“That’s a tad generous, even,” Slade said, perfectly casually, like he wasn’t holding a loaded weapon to Roy’s head. “A whore makes money. You’re more of a…” Trailing off, he tapped it against Roy’s chest, the chill raising goosebumps. “A _toy._ A thing for me to play with at my leisure. Isn’t that right?”

Every iota of sense in Roy’s head worked together like a ball and chain, forcing the words that wanted out back down his throat. He choked on the agreement, the frantic _yes, yes, yes_ that his brain supplied him with, his pride unable to let it be spoken. But he needed it so badly.

Slade seemed to understand. He pulled out of Roy’s body with a lewd, wet pop and forced him to his feet before spinning him around, slamming him against the wall again until his cheek was smushed painfully against plaster. With hardly a breath of pause, his cock shunted back inside, carving through the muscle all over again from an entirely new angle.

Roy keened, because it was all he could do. Even once the gun’s nozzle was tight against the skin of his lower back, held there as an ever-present warning that made his pulse thrum at a continuous, rapid pace. The adrenaline dulled his other senses for a moment. He didn’t realize Slade’s mouth was at his neck until teeth broke the skin, and Roy reacted with a loud gasp and an arch that had his swollen cock rutting against the wall.

Slade pulled him back by the hip, forcing him to stay bent that way, his own palms pressed desperately to the plaster as if for support.

“You don’t even deserve the bed,” Slade hissed in his ear, a wickedly pleased voice from a wickedly pleased man. “You’re only worth it against the wall just like this, pretty and wide open and presenting for anyone who wants it. You don’t get to sit ‘til your job is done, you hear me?”

After a series of loud wails, punched out of him by the sheer force Slade used to fuck him, Roy managed to nod, furious though it might have been. “Don’t need to. I just wanna—”

Slade kicked Roy’s legs further apart, sending his sweaty palms skidding down the wall a couple of inches, spine curved in a near-painful arc. “I don’t care what you want. As far as I’m concerned, you’re a goddamn glorified fleshlight.”

Roy might have laughed, might have yelled, might have struck Slade square in the face. Any other time, he would have fought back. Now, all he did was moan, head dropping between his arms, which barely seemed adequate to hold him up where he was being driven into, over and over.

His toes curled into the carpet at the thought of how shameful it was to be put down like this. Being considered nothing more than an object did something to him that he’d lie about to his dying day, but it hit the spot in ways he never would have imagined if he hadn’t come here.

With a strangled groan, he pushed his hips back against Slade’s, letting the sheer size settle in parts of him so deep it made him dizzy to think about. Didn’t matter if it felt too big, too much, because right now, his body was a payment.

The gun banged painfully against his hip, dragging him back to the present with a shout that only registered as his own voice after a second of his vision unfuzzing.

“Don’t pass out on me, now,” Slade said. “You’re gonna stand there and take it until I’m done.”

He was only halfway aware of Slade lifting one of his thighs until the pain of him reaching even deeper forced Roy to moan. “Too much,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “Oh, _oh_ god.”

“Don’t tell me you’re more breakable than Boy Blunder,” Slade tutted, using his free hand to tap against Roy’s chest again, this time grazing over one peaked nipple with a shock of cold that had him shuddering where he was speared on the man’s cock. His ankle bounced against the wall with each thrust, sure to leave bruises, and yet the only thing he could focus on was the idea that Dick had been here before, too. The feeling that created in the pit of his stomach was hard to identify.

“Bastard,” he mumbled, vaguely aware that the gun was rubbing circles across his chest, first one nipple and then the other, Slade’s entire arm wrapped around his waist to hold him in place for the vicious fucking that never seemed to end. Roy had been teetering on the precipice of cumming for so long he didn’t even think he could now.

As usual, Slade seemed determine to prove him wrong. With a particular kind of cruelty, he shoved the gun back underneath Roy’s jaw and demanded, “Be a good boy and beg me. Tell me exactly how much you want me to ruin you.”

A change in angle had Roy shooting up on tiptoe, unable to stand the sudden jabs of pleasure racking him. Moments later, when Slade gave no indication of letting up and Roy’s legs were beginning to give out, he had no choice but to let gravity lower him fully back down on the man’s cock, filling him to the brim with a desperate sob he didn’t realize he was capable of making. He spit a string of curses first, then finally caved.

As he looked blearily up at the wall in front of him through his lashes, ignoring the sweat sticking his hair to his forehead, he reluctantly fought past the shame and begged, beginning with a single shuddering, “Please.”

The gun left his throat, and soon after, Roy felt a hand curl around his cock. His moan was downright filthy. Pleased with the stimulation, more words tumbled out. “Yes!Use me, use me, _please._ It feels good, so good, I can’t—”

Another pitiful, strangled sound erupted when his body locked and shook, muscles tensing as he spilled messily over Slade’s fist.

In a gesture comparatively gracious to the rest of his behavior, Slade pulled out and allowed him to slump down the wall, twisting around so he could sit on the carpet and catch his breath. It was the end of the mercy, because by the time he regained enough brainpower to be snarky about what they had just done, Slade pumped his own release across Roy’s face, effectively hushing him as he wallowed in the degradation of being dirtied.

As if dripping cum wasn’t enough of a punishment, Slade ran his fingers almost paternally through his hair. And then, more terrifying than the gun or the fact of Roy’s agreement to any of this, he heard the sound of a phone camera going off.

Wide eyes flickered up to the burner cell in Slade’s hand just as he said, “Just making sure our damsel in distress is conscientious of how much his prodigal son cares.”

Like a final blow, dealt with fatal precision, Roy felt the remainder of his pride crumble. “You’re not seriously sending that to him.”

Slade smirked, still gingerly stroking Roy’s scalp. “Like I told you,” he said, “for tonight, you’re my plaything. I get to do whatever I please with you.” The unspoken _including this _lingered in the air when he snatched a fistful of Roy’s hair and dragged him onto his cock, gagging him with a motion so swift he drooled and sputtered around the intrusion. “All night long,” the man reiterated. It sent another unbidden thrill along Roy’s spine, shame and hatred colliding to form one deadly animal of sensation.

Once more, the camera clicked.


End file.
